


analog or digital

by orphan_account



Series: qui pro domina justitia sequitur [6]
Category: Political RPF, Political RPF - US 21st c., Real Person Fiction
Genre: Introspection, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Phone Calls & Telephones, Phone Sex, fuck it tho, i tried to get out and then newt gingrich pulled me back in, if bob is fired i will start a March, one-sided, yea i didn't think i'd be typing out that tag but then i did
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-11-13 10:43:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11183463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: There’s an easy way for him to differentiate between his acquaintances and his friends. The former, haven’t stopped trying to contact him ever since he was named the special counsel; and the latter know better than to bring it up.





	analog or digital

**Author's Note:**

> I hoped I wouldn't do this again but here we are. Thank Newt fucking Gingrich for this.

There’s an easy way for him to differentiate between his acquaintances and his friends. The former, haven’t stopped trying to contact him ever since he was named the special counsel; and the latter know better than to bring it up.

Guess which Bob appreciates more?

Since then he’s bought a new phone with a new number, trying to avoid the litany of questions and requests and comments and whatever else they want to know. They should know he’s not going to talk about an ongoing investigation, least of all an investigation like this one.

He’s in the study right now, as he usually is these days, when he’s not in the temporary office that’s been set up for the special counsel and his team. He doesn’t doubt that Rosenstein will give them a better space – after all, almost of the briefings that they’ve conducted up to this point have been inconclusive since there’s no place to discuss or review that type of information. He hasn’t even been given copies of most of the files from the various probes. How does anyone expect any work to get done when the information can’t be handled securely?

The only person Bob can – and does – relay his concerns to is Ann and, bless her heart, she’s since retired off to bed. He can’t blame her, it’s half past twelve, but she can’t blame him for staying up. There’s too much running through his mind for him to relax right now.

But he’s trying. He has his iPad out and he’s leaned back in his chair, fingers drumming on the desk while he opens up the news app. Plenty of his peers prefer print versions of their news, to which he points out that by the next day, the news is outdated and everyone has already moved on to the next big-ticket item. Best to go through everything

He’s about to go through the evening briefing when his phone rings. It’s Jim.

Bob hesitates, just a moment, then slides it open and presses it against his ear. “Hello?”

“Did I wake you?” Jim asks. He sounds a little embarrassed at the prospect and the corners of Bob’s mouth quirk.

“You know I never sleep, Jim,” he replies smoothly.

“That’s – that’s true,” Jim chuckles lightly. “Not then, not now, not ever – except on Sundays, family functions, and bank holidays.”

“My three exceptions.” He sits up forward and lays the iPad down before him, scrolling idly through the news items. “What can I do for you, Jim?”

“I just wanted to talk,” Jim says.

“And talking we are,” Bob says. “Is there anything in specific you’d like to talk about?”

There’s a slight pause, then, “I didn’t know you’d been tapped to be the next FBI director.”

The smile on Bob’s face defines itself and he shakes his head with a sigh. “I’m actually surprised it took so long for the information to get leaked out, given how well this administration is conducting itself.” He pauses a moment to listen to Jim’s laugh, then continues. “I wasn’t going to take the job, though – I had already served my time and while Congress might have appreciated more of my service, I don’t think Ann would have.”

“Does she appreciate your service as the special counsel?”

“I think she appreciates that less.” His fingers tap against the desk again as the smile slides off his face, slowly, and he says, “I don’t think that’s why you called me, though. Is it, Jim?”

He thinks he can hear Jim swallowing hard. “No, it isn’t,” he admits. “I… I can’t sleep.”

“You can’t sleep,” Bob repeats.

“I can’t stop wondering – what’s going to happen next? He’s never asked about the probes into Russian interference, barely asks about our cybersecurity efforts or our efforts into stopping ISIS propaganda. I mean…” he trails off a little and the weight of all his fears is heavy in the air.

Bob’s eyes glance back down at the iPad screen. There’s an article about how Andrew, Jeannie, and James are all supposedly biased against the current administration. And there’s an interesting article on Chelsea Manning that Aaron recommended to him. He clicks the second one open. “And you called me to, what, have a repeat of last time?”

There’s a slight clatter on the other end, likely Jim nearly dropping a glass of whatever he’d been drinking. “I – I mean, I, uh…” he stammers. It’s a little endearing, especially when coming from someone so usually put-together on the surface.

“I wouldn’t mind,” Bob says. “You know I wouldn’t.” His eyes are still on the article and the picture of Manning in it. _She looks much different than that picture the media uses_ , he thinks. “Where are you?”

“In the kitchen,” Jim replies, a nervous note to his voice. “Drinking.”

“Drinking,” Bob nods slowly. “Remember the last time we were drinking together?”

“I do,” Jim says. There’s probably a light flush dusting his face, both from the drink and from the memory. “There’s a common theme, whenever we drink together.”

“There is,” Bob agrees. He sets the phone on speaker and puts it on the desk, grabbing the iPad and leaning back in his chair as he looks back at the article. He can’t believe it was only seven years ago that she leaked all those documents – oh how times have changed since then. “I’m sure you’re thinking over all of those times right now, aren’t you?”

“Well – well I am now.” There’s a certain breathlessness to the way he’s speaking and he trails off quickly.

“My lips against your neck, fingers trailing down your spine, and though we’ve just started, you’re already hard,” Bob hums, almost casually, as his fingers scroll down the article. Manning is only twenty-nine – huh, he always thought she was much older. _Well, they get younger and younger every year_ , he thinks.

Jim doesn’t respond for a moment, just breathing into the receiver until he finds his voice. “Yes,” he says. “Yes, I – I am.”

“Of course.” The article paints Manning in a sympathetic light – but then again, why wouldn’t it? It’s an article about her, and she has been through a lot. Not that Bob approves of leaking classified information. He clears his throat. “I remember how nervous you were the first time,” he says, voice still level, “when we were first together. You grabbed the sheets so tightly they nearly ripped and you were so tense and so tight. It took so long to loosen you up, to spread my fingers inside of you and tease them out, inch by inch. By the time I fully pulled them out, you were all but begging for them to be back inside of you.”

There’s no response, but Bob wasn’t really expecting one. He imagines Jim sitting at his kitchen table, leaned forward with one of his hands shoved into his pants and fisting at his dick. Sweat covers his face and he’s biting down on his lip to swallow down the noises.

A message pings on Bob’s iPad, from Andrew. It’s a link to another article, but all he reads is the tweets referenced by Newt Gingrich – one glorifying Bob, the other condemning him. He resists the urge to laugh and shakes his head, before continuing on with what he was reading before.

“You begged while I slowly moved inside you,” he says. “We were lucky that no one else was there – otherwise, I wouldn’t have been able to listen to you, gasping and moaning, trying to push back against me, trying to get me in further.” He reaches for his mug, frowning a little when he finds it empty. When did he drink all of his tea? He shakes his head again. “Let me hear a little bit of it, Jim.”

Jim lets out a shaky breath. “Oh, god, Bob, please, _please_ –”

His mouth quirks again and he nods slowly. “And I obliged. Of course I did. Rarely did I ever say no to you. I grabbed your waist and I kissed your shoulder and I told you, I told you how proud of you I was, how much I cared for you.” He pauses, just a second, just to draw it out, and then, “And I’m still proud of you, Jim.”

He waits a couple of moments while Jim catches his breath and finishes reading the article. An interesting perspective, to be sure, and he’ll have some light conversation to make with Aaron when they’re on their lunch break. He takes the phone again and sets it off speaker. “Are you still there, Jim?”

“I…” he takes a deep breath. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Jim,” Bob replies. He chuckles a little. “Imagine what the Republicans would think, if they knew about this.”

“I don’t think I’m mentally capable of doing that,” Jim says with a slight laugh. He still sounds a little out of breath, but a lot lighter, a lot less tense.

“I don’t think anyone is.” Bob taps his iPad and checks the time. “It’s getting pretty late and unlike you, I still have a job.”

“I’m just between opportunities,” Jim insists. “Though, I doubt I can list the President as a reference. Or Rosenstein or Sessions.”

“Oh, I agree,” Bob chuckles again. “But I’m sure Obama and Holder would be willing to write something nice for you.”

“I’m sure they would.” There’s a brief beat of silence as they’re both wondering who will say goodbye first. Then Jim says, “We’ll talk again soon, right?”

“Of course we will,” Bob says with all the assurance he can muster. “Of course.”

“Good.” He clears his throat again. “I’ll… I’ll let you go, then. Goodnight, Bob.”

“Goodnight, Jim. Sweet dreams.” Bob hangs up first. He puts the iPad and the phone back on the desk and slowly gets to his feet, stretching out his legs a moment and grabbing his mug.

He’ll come back when he has more tea.

**Author's Note:**

> sip that tea, bob. sip that fucking tea.
> 
> The article he's reading is [here](https://www.nytimes.com/2017/06/12/magazine/the-long-lonely-road-of-chelsea-manning.html?_r=0), and some info about who he's hired and why people (cough Newt cough Laura cough Anne) want him and his people gone are [here](https://www.vox.com/platform/amp/policy-and-politics/2017/6/12/15782092/fire-robert-mueller) and [here](http://www.cnn.com/2017/06/10/politics/robert-mueller-russia-investigation-team/index.html).


End file.
